During the early part of the week I was filled with erotic temptations: do this, do that, whatever it takes to continue the extraordinary, this life-transforming erotic adventure. I was a woman whose every waking moment was filled with images and words of the most forbidden and hence most exciting kind.
I couldn’t wait for Saturday. On Wednesday, I used my feminine charms to arouse my husband Don. While he was at work, I phoned him and found a way to introduce some suggestive talk into the conversation.
Then, at dinner that evening, with our boy Bobbie sitting with us at the table, I provided seductive yet ambiguous hints of sexual pleasure we might give each other later. For a moment, I thought I saw him frown as he glanced at Bobbie.
But then, with his eyes dropping to the cleavage I had made sure to display, he became more than a little interested in my intimations of something daringly different that I had in mind for us later that evening.
By the end of dinner, the risqué talk had him so aroused he wasn’t bothering to look at Bobbie any more. Meanwhile, my lovely handsome boy, his face flushed by the potent suggestibility of his mother’s talk, had gotten the message. My secret watcher would be watching!
I recalled the previous occasions of my display for him, unbeknownst to Don as we made love and Bobbie stood at open bedroom door and, in the dim light, watched the lovemaking.
Even thinking about it produced an erotic charge could just as well have been a small but powerful bolt of lightening. My mind sizzled with the heat of the imagined situation and my body responded with liquid recognition of the sheer mind-blowing eroticism of being watched by my son!
As for that Wednesday evening, I had given it some thought during the day. The problem had been to create an exciting sexual situation with Don for the benefit of my dear watcher -- and, of course, thereby to amplify my own excitement.
I wanted to exhibit myself to and for him, to ignite a fire in him and then feel it spread to me. I wanted to think about his desire and let it feed fuel into the sexual flames that were consuming me with their ever-growing demands for more -- more of what was not supposed to ever be done in the presence of one’s son. Delicious!
I had a plan, or at least the initial steps, for the rest would depend upon the very unpredictability of the events that would follow it.
Later that evening, with Bobbie in his room down the hall, I approached Don as he reclined on our king size bed, wearing only his shorts. I sat at its edge and leaned toward him so that he could enjoy the erotic sight of my barely concealed and ample bosom and be exposed to my mild but arousing perfume. I was wearing a teddy and, of course, the stiletto shoes he loved so much.
I let my fingers caress Don’s bare tummy as I spoke, touching the top of the shorts as a promise of where else those fingers might yet travel.
“You know what would be fun Don?”
“Hmm?”
“Something we haven’t done for a while – watching an X-rated video.”
He looked at me with some interest but then wrinkled his nose, “We stopped watching because the silicone boobs turned us off.”
I laughed, “Right, I remember. But I also recall that you especially enjoyed some of the classic films, before the age of silicone.”
“That’s true.” He had perked up again.
“So … how about it?”
“Great. But which one, I wonder?”
“Don, do I have to remind you about your all-time favorite porn star, the buxom Miss Kay Parker?”
He laughed now and his eyes twinkled. “You mean she of Taboo fame?”
I smiled and then leaned to his ear and whispered, “And I also remember the scene that most turned you on….”
That did it. When I looked down, I saw that Don was very much aroused by all this talk about the central event of the film in which a mother, played by Kay Parker, has lusty sex with her handsome teenage son.
A few moments later, the TV in the bedroom was on and the opening credits were being displayed on it for our enjoyment. Our bedroom was large and the TV was off to the side facing a loveseat. Its back faced the bedroom door, not quite the best arrangement but it would have to do, at least for starters. I had set the bedroom lamp to a less dim setting than the previous two weeks and now the room also was lit up by the glare of the TV -- altogether, not too bright, but not too dim.
“Back in a jiff, honey, “ I said to Don and motioned for him to let the tape run. It was an excuse. I went to get something from a toilet cabinet and quietly placed it on a bedside table.
And I left the bedroom door open. I was counting on Bobbie’s sexual interests to bring him to that door at some point. How could he resist?
I fondled Don’s manly neck and shoulders as we watched the by-play between young Mike Ranger and his sister, a wining brat who annoyed me. I was happy when her brother fucked her good and hard and sent her on her way.
I identified with Kay, the attractive Mom in the film.
Mike was her teenage son. Earlier he had secretly observed her in the nude, his eyes popping and his prick growing as he watched. She had showered and as she dried herself ever so gradually, he had the time to study each marvelous breast and to admire the long shapely legs. Then she had entered her boudoir and, sitting before a mirror, massaged a cream into each pendulous breast before slowly slipping on her black silk stockings and lacy black underwear.
Don’s fingers were tracing a knowing path along my sleek naked thigh. I was getting wet in the right places, my arousal enhanced by the dual expectation of taboo events in the film and the forbidden situation I was awaiting in our bedroom.
When a big and boring orgy scene began, Don pressed the fast-forward. I was afraid that he might go too far. What if the key scene was played out before Bobbie arrived! I leaned into Don and began caressing his still covered cock while I probed his ear with my knowing tongue, the in and out motion a promise of what was to come. It had the desired effect as the restored normal play of the film and kissed me deeply. Then we both turned to watch as the orgy ended.
Kay had returned home from the orgy in which she had not participated and now she lay in bed, restless with the sexual images flowing through her mind and with something else that seemed to trouble her. Nearby, in his own bedroom, her son Mike lay naked on this bed and deep in sleep.
Then, suddenly, my attention reverted to my immediate surroundings and I knew my boy was there, behind us, at the open door! My body responded with a liquid surge that left me momentarily breathless. As this was happening, our bedroom filled the haunting music from the film that told its own story of incestuous desire.
Kay was caressing her large pendulant breasts as her nightgown opened to reveal them, and then she arose from the bed and looked toward her son’s bedroom. The music conveyed her feeling: she was consumed with lust! Lust for boy! She wants to see his cock, to hold it, to caress it! She has an urge to lick it and then to take to make love to it with her motherly mouth!
Oh yes! My juices flowed as the music and Kay’s demeanor conveyed this erotic message.
